St. Elmo Steak House

It rained the whole afternoon I spent at St. Elmo Steak House, and I cannot now imagine eating there in any other weather.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: downtown Indy institution with checked floors. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a small dish of marinated white anchovies, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a quiet Brunello from the back of the list, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bone-in ribeye, the dish that puts St. Elmo Steak House on every short list. Cut through it and you found that deep, beefy, almost iron-tasting interior that only comes from time and dry air. The signature touch — the shrimp cocktail, the one that hurts — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for creamed spinach so rich it should embarrass us and fried okra and a dab of remoulade. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a slab of New York cheesecake, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.